Coming to Your Senses
Independence Day, otherwise known as the 4th of July, began yesterday like many other days for me of late. Given that I am a writer who works from home, I don’t get out much. To say that I’m a homebody is an understatement. We have created the life we desired through hard work and determination that began many moons ago. So, now we live on our small farm with a much-loved, slow-paced lifestyle.
Our usual routine, my wife and I, is to get out in the morning for either a walk or a bike ride. Katrina had a number of things to prepare for the minor festivities that we planned to be doing later in the day to celebrate the holiday, so we passed on walking or riding. That quickly flipped a switch in my head, got me to thinking in a new direction. I set a course for a new kind of busy, one that required a work hat to get some things done outside before the heat became unbearable.
A few landscaping activities we had completed around our yard and field in prior days and weeks had resulted in a variety of small piles of brush here and there. So, what better thing to do on the Fourth than to build a brush fire, right? I got busy right quick with a new wave of excitement in me to check some things off my list that needed doing. First things first, though – I moved my sheep into a small area of the yard to get them grazing on some fresh grass, for their benefit as well as the yard.
Now that I had the sheep busy, I got the truck and headed across the field to the back corner, where just the day before I had gathered up a pile of sticks under some trees I had been mowing under. After gathering the pile of sticks, I drove back up to the house and made a stop to gather the remainder of the limbs and sticks from an oak tree I had cut down a couple of weeks back. Truck overflowing at that point, I proceeded to the burning area, where I had gathered a brush pile back in the early spring, waiting for the opportune moment.
Perhaps a cool, crisp day in the fall would have been a better time to create fervent heat, but I wanted this to be behind me, to have those random piles turned to ashes before the day was over. I backed the truck and its load through the woods and into the closest space available and commenced to hauling armloads of brush back and forth, adding the trimmings to the previously established pile. Because my heap was getting quite tall, I went ahead and set the pile on fire so it could begin burning down as I gathered more brush. I was quite happy to also be ridding myself of months of junk mail that I hoard regularly for that very purpose. Instead of a shredder, I use fire.
One match soon became a small flame making its way up the crumpled papers, the endless “information” others had bothered me with for months. As I began gathering more brush from the random piles nearby from our earlier in the year renovation activities, the fire began to roar, ripping through the tall pile and sending flames shooting straight upwards, maybe fifteen to twenty feet into the air.
Back and forth I went, picking up rose bush trimmings, small tree limbs from spring pruning, and other limbs we had gathered from spring storms. But as I walked back and forth, and knowing I was sweating profusely from not only the work but the flames, I began to smell the pungent odor of what I perceived to be a serious B.O. (body odor) problem. I generally don’t have that issue for the most part, keeping myself quite on top of personal hygiene, but for some reason it was just taking my breath away. With each step and drop of sweat, I just kept thinking of how great it would be to get done so I could get inside and take a long shower with liberal amounts of soap.
But as my work lingered on, I noticed something. At certain times I smelled the odor, and at other times it seemed to go away. Weird! It was like I was putting off smells intermittently, off and on, off and on. Finally, in all of my bewilderment and supposed stench, the mystery was solved. All of the brush I’d been dragging to the burn pile had been scraping the ground, which was completely covered with some sort of wide-leafed weed, one that, when torn or scraped, put off the very nasty smell of human B.O. Was I ever relieved, and disgusted all at the same time!
Isn’t it odd how our minds work? We discover something through our senses and begin to assess the cause, or source, of what is bringing the pleasure, or offense. Our eyes might see something beautiful that in the end, upon further investigation, may be an illusion. Our ears can detect a prowler outside at night, when in fact, the tree just outside has been rustling against the windowpane. Smells can be delightful or detestable, either of which can trigger memories of things encountered over the years of our existence.
When your senses are set on edge and brought to attention, be sure to know exactly what you are experiencing before jumping to conclusions. Unless of course you do have a bad case of B.O. In that case, get yourself headed for some soap and water right quick, for the benefit of yourself, as well as that of others.